


spit the pith (and drink the day in)

by actualflower



Series: fireteam: condor [6]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Reunions, Romantic Fluff, Team as Family, Unbeta'd, and also Snare is a lil sass monster, and filled with fluff, hey it's gay, i love snare sm it's honestly a Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualflower/pseuds/actualflower
Summary: Bera waits for a ship to come in.





	spit the pith (and drink the day in)

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, as ever. please point out any glaring mistakes in the comments. thank you for reading. <3
> 
> title from [I Will Smile When I Think Of You by J.E. Sunde.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oz0E_BnsbCU)

Bera Syvalnus does not remember waking up.

Not this morning, of course. She remembers that with perfect clarity. Remembers gasping awake in the quiet of the farm with her arms around Ryf’s waist, one arm pinprick-dead under her lover’s weight, and not moving until Ryf snuffled awake in the morning light, hair mussed and eyes drooping. Ryf looked at her quietly and pulled her closer; Ryf’s nightmares are quiet things, hidden behind sleepy eyes and soft kisses. Bera’s are the ones they worry about, the ones that leave her kicking and reaching for her pistol on the nightstand. They’re the ones that make her gasp awake.

No, not this morning, or any morning preceding it. Just one.

Elias usually greets her in the farmhouse before they both report to Hawthorne - the pair of Hunters have made a name for themselves as dedicated scouts, pushing further into enemy territory than other scouts might, disregarding their safety for the information they bring back. Bera finds her rhythm in the spaces between. Ryf knows this, and lets her go. It works for them both - Ryf hanging back for once, worry thick in her teeth still, but knowing she’s doing good, and Bera heading forward. 

She knows Javs is worried about Elias the same way Ryf worries over her, but they understand. That’s the important part. They process different, but they understand.

He’s cheerful this morning, smiling as he brings Bera a mug of something warm and ungodly caffeinated. She takes it without complaint, burning her tongue on the first sip and wincing.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warns, seconds after the fact.

She smacks him on the shoulder. “See if I watch your ass, Elias.”

“I know you will - it’s too fine not to!” He dances out of reach of her next smack, shaking his ass at her as he does. Bera snorts under her breath, takes another careful sip of her coffee. Still too hot, but she downs it anyway.

Elias slides a plate under her nose, piled with an omelet and some bland toast. The same thing they’ve been eating for breakfast for the past month.

She gives him an unimpressed eyebrow. “Again?”

“Be glad I feed your ungrateful ass,” he retorts, smiling wide.

She tucks into it without further complaint. She’d never felt  _ hunger _ before - Void, sure, but that was a bone-deep kind of hungry you didn’t talk about; and with Ryf and Examoris, that hungry was  _ different _ -

She clears her throat, swallows more too-hot-too-sweet coffee. Elias always puts too much sugar in it.

“Hawthorne’s s’posed to come back today,” he comments, mouth half-full of egg. She swats his cheek to dislodged a piece of omelet that’d somehow snuck there.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, ya damn savage.”

“Pretty sure you’re not my mom, Bera.”

“Damn shame, too - maybe then you’d actually have fuckin’  _ table manners. _ ”

He falls back from his seat, one hand pressed to his chest, the other extended dramatically. “You wound me. Careful now, can’t have you hurt me  _ too  _ bad. Fives’ll only heal me up  _ so _ much.”

At the mention of her name, Fives appears over Elias’ shoulder. “Please don’t get injured,” she says, her voice endearingly earnest.

“Only for you, Fives.”

Fives bobs in assent, disappearing in a flash. Elias laughs. “She’ll be in a tizzy now. Good job, Bera.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your ass out of the fire,” she retorts, shoving the rest of the omelet in her mouth and pushing away from the table. 

Elias laughs. Javs enters with a smile. “Hey, lovebirds. Hawthorne’s ship was sighted two kliks east.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Elias’s head. 

“You know I only have eyes for you,” he flirts, smiling.

Bera gags, but she stows her plate and mug. Elias follows her, and they walk to the open courtyard together. They pass the football field, a mess of guardians and civilians organized into two teams kicking the ball back and forth between each other already. More than a few spectators line the sides of the field, laughing and cheering whenever a goal is scored. No one seems to be too preoccupied with keeping score, though.

Bera and Elias wander their way to the makeshift docks, leaning against the trees that guard their new home from view and watching the frames wave in ship after ship. Every other arrival seems to be more refugees.

Elias catches sight of them first - a convoy of half-patched ships limping towards them with Hawthorne’s at its head. Bera grins. “You think she’s got any more strays with her? Last time it was what, 20-some guardians?”

“Eh, not that many extra ships. She’s only got seven with her - they left two days ago with five. I’m betting five. A fireteam and two stragglers.”

“Ten glimmer says you’re wrong.”   
  
“You’re on,” Elias says, and leans back against the tree once more.

* * *

 

Examoris wakes from recharge slowly - it is a novel thing, now, taking time to reboot her systems and peruse memory files. 

“Ten minutes out,” Snare tells her from the doorway. He’s abandoned the pilot’s chair to the autopilot program, leaning against the door jamb of the small storage bay.

She nods, her vocalizer still fritzing. Recharge cleared it some, but there’s physical damage that needs to be addressed. Snare walks forward, slides down the wall to sit next to her without a word. 

He tilts his head towards her, opening his mouth, clicking it closed. He wants to say something. Examoris waits patiently.

“Want me to take a look at your neck?” is what he eventually asks. It’s not what he wanted to say, but she nods and cranes her head back against the wall. His undamaged hand comes to her throat, poking at wires with deft, careful fingers; she shut off her pain receptors after the fall, but the gentleness is appreciated.

“Needs realignment. New wires. Have to cut ‘em off and resolder here,” he touches her neck carefully, just above the armor of her collar, “and here.” He touches just under her jaw. She nods. Her fingers trace over the spots he touched after his hand leaves her neck, and he coughs. “You wanna rest more, or be awake?”

“Awak-k-k-e.” Her voice rattles, and she can feel the vocoder shake in her throat with her fingers pressed against it.

“Alright. I’ll send Glitch when we’re ready.” Snare stands, dusts off his pants, and returns to the pilot’s chair.

Her Ghost appears as soon as he leaves. “Do you trust him?”

“He d-d-did not kill us.”

“That is not the same as trust,” Ghost tells her, and there is truth in it. 

“Conced-d-d-ed. But I trust him,” she admits. Her arm spasms, a shower of sparks flying from the wiring on her elbow. She looks to her Ghost. “Can you do anyth-th-thing about that?"

“Not without Light,” he admits, and there is shame, there, too.

“We will be alright, G-g-g-ghost. We are t-t-together.”

Ghost gives her a significant look, one optic bright, and nods. “I hope so.” He gives a little full-body shiver. “I do not want to be without you again."

“Nor I, y-you.”

Despite her want to stay awake, she finds the lull of recharge too hard to ignore. She falls asleep against the wall of the storage bay once more, and her Ghost settles on her lap and waits, his optic dimmed just slightly.

Glitch bobs into the room ten minutes later, and Ghost wakes her without complaint. Examoris hobbles to her feet, cycling her optics several times before the room comes to clarity around her, and walks to the hallway. Snare greets her with a nod, and they both walk off the ship, Snare a half-step in front of her.

Hawthorne greets them as they step onto solid ground. Louis is perched on her hand, and she seems to be talking to him. As they approach, she raises her hand in the air, and Louis takes off, soaring into the air above.

“Hates ships,” she says by way of explanation. “Anyway - welcome to the farm. Home sweet home, at least for now. We got a loud, shouty guy in a week or two ago - Shaxx? You’ll probably want to see him. He handles most guardians. Tyra, too.” She looks them both up and down. “I don’t think we have anyone qualified for repairs up and about.  I can ask around.”

Examoris nods.  Snare grunts something like agreement.

Hawthorne looks around to the other ships, and then focuses on something a little distance further, in the trees. “I’ve got more people to round up - get comfy, I guess. Go claim a room or a campsite. If you feel up to it, talk to me about scouting.” Without a goodbye, she jogs over to the other ships, leaving Examoris and Snare alone.

Snare turns to her, a near-frown on his face.  “You want to - look for anyone?” He forces out the words, like they’re uncomfortable to say.

The impulse hits her to ask for Bera, Ryf, but she lets it slide away. “Mem-m-morial,” she says, and transmats a cloak out of her subspace. Snare nods.

“Have to see if they got a workspace,” he mutters, walking towards the sounds and lights of people. Examoris hobbles behind, cloak gripped in her functioning hand.

* * *

 

Bera stares up into the trees. “Well?”

“We got at least two, I think. Haven’t seen any other new ones, but they’re just the first ones out. Hawthorne’s probably giving ‘em the riot act now.”

She idly tosses her knife in the air, watches it spin. “What do they look like?”

“Both exos - one looks like a hunter. Very green. Other one’s a warlock, maybe? Orange. Arm’s completely busted, though.”

Bera’s hand stills. The knife thuds against the ground. “What?”

Elias looks over at where she’s laying on the ground. “Bera…” There’s concern there, mixed with apprehension.

Bera breathes hard through her nose.  “I don’t -” she tries, but the words fail. She’s been checking every new arrival for a month, ever since the Tower fell. The chance it’s her…

“You can always sit up and check,” he says quietly. He holds out a hand to help her up.

She fumbles for words. “I - Ryf?”

“We can go find her, yeah.” Elias stands and dusts himself off, then offers his hand again. 

Bera takes it. When she stands, she fights to not look over Elias’ shoulder. Her heart thuds in her chest. It could be her. It could be _ her. _

She needs Ryf. Hawthorne be damned.

Elias picks their way back through the trees, heading through the forest - they've set up a little memorial nearby, one Ryf tends to with care and dedication. 

Bera spots Ryf easily, the Titan standing nearly a head taller than anyone around her - she's dressed down in boots and sweatpants and a tank top, two nails held between her teeth as she hammers a third into what looks like a new shelf she’s built.

Bera hesitates - she’s overreacting, isn't she? The warlock that just showed up could be anyone, anyone at all, and here she is, seeing ghosts - hell, she hasn’t even  _ seen them _ at all. 

Elias puts a hand on her shoulder. “Go bother her. She looks like she’s having too much fun, anyway,” he gestures to Ryf flippantly. There’s a furrow in her brow that speaks of focus, and she can see where there’s sweat soaked through her shirt. There’s a good chance she’s been at this all morning, and the day’s only gotten hotter.

Bera nods, patting the hand on her shoulder, and walks forward. Ryf notices her almost instantly, as if she’d known Bera was there all along and was just waiting for her to step forward.

“Good morning. Hawthorne snippy today?” Ryf plucks the nails out of her mouth and sets them on top of the shelf instead - it’s a nice pale wood, sanded smooth with a simple silhouette. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

“I want a puppy,” she blurts out, rather than what she wants to say.

Ryf gives her an odd look, questioning. “I mean, yeah, sure - after all this is over.” She holds out a hand to Bera, reaching for her own. “You good, Bera?” Her tone goes low, near to a whisper. “You need to talk? We can go somewhere.”

“No - I mean, yeah, we need to talk but - no, we don’t have to go. I just…” Bera looks up at Ryf and grabs her hand. “New arrivals today. Two of them were Exos. One was a-”

“Warlock,” Ryf breathes, and there’s understanding in her eyes, a dawning comprehension of dread and hope in equal measure. Bera had hoped she wouldn’t hope - it would make it easier if she was the only one hurt by this, if Ryf wasn’t hoping just as hard that Examoris was alive.

_ What if she is? _ whispers that little voice in the back of her mind, and she shakes her head to clear it. “Yeah. Warlock and a Hunter. Elias - spotted them. I didn’t - I couldn’t look, not alone, I’m sorry, I just-”

“It’s alright,” Ryf interrupts, voice soft. Bera nods, swallowing.

“Yeah,” she says, for lack of anything else to say.

It’s silent between them for a moment, both of them thinking, and then:

“Do you want to-”

“Should we go and-”

They both speak at the same time, and both stop midway. Bera smiles first, breaking the tension. “Yeah, we should.”

Ryf smiles back, squeezing her hand. “Alright.” She sets the hammer on the shelf, letting go of Bera’s hand only long enough to pick up the shelf and set it next to three others of its kind. The rest are already full of helmets, tags, shells, bonds, marks, cloaks - anything and everything that could be used to remember the guardians they belonged to.

When they walk past the second shelf together, Bera’s gaze lingers on the warlock bond she and Ryf had put there together. It was a simple bond, a strip of reinforced fabric with the vanguard emblem embroidered on one side and the warlock crest on the other in pale yellow, like a summer flower.

It isn’t until she bumps into Ryf while they walk that she realizes Ryf has stopped dead in her tracks. “Ryf?”

No response. She pulls her gaze away from the bond and looks up at Ryf - she’s staring straight forward, her face frozen in shock, lip bitten hard enough to make it bleed. Bera looks forward and -

\- stops.

Standing a few feet ahead of them both, carefully gripping an old, worn hunter’s cloak in her hand and cradling her other hand against her chest, is a bright burnished-orange Exo wearing oily, dirty robes, torn in places and stained in others. Half her neck is a mess of exposed wiring. Her left eye is surrounded by a scar that looks like a long starburst streak in the paint. Bera remembers seeing that scar for the first time -  _ “Look like a proper badass now, instead of a bookworm.”  _ \- remembers dragging her out of the Hellmouth when that scar was a gaping hole leaking sluggish oily-blue fluid and humming nonsense tunes to distract from the fact that she thought that Exo was going to die.

That same Exo standing in front of her.

“Examoris?”

Bera’s voice is barely a whisper, but it breaks whatever spell had fallen over the three of them. Ryf starts forward, one step, another, and so does Examoris, dropping the cloak on the ground and hobbling forward as fast as she can. Bera’s face breaks into a grin, and she slides between both of them with Hunter grace, looping an arm around Examoris’ waist and letting Ryf crush her between both of them.

She can feel hot metal under her hands; Examoris’ systems are overclocked and underfueled, her mechanical heart giving a weak, irregular click every few seconds. Her arm is sparking, crushed as it is between them, and Bera pulls away just a little only to be tugged back close by Examoris herself. The Exo has her face tucked into the crook of Bera’s neck, and she can feel her metal jaw working, trying to say something, but nothing comes out.

Ryf wraps her arms around them both. Bera can feel her shaking against them and turns her head to look at her - tears track paths down her cheeks, and she’s still got her lip between her teeth, her teeth pink-red at the very edge. When she catches Bera’s eyes, she gives her an incredulous smile.

Bera looks back to Examoris, who has pulled away from her shoulder to look at Bera and Ryf in turn - her eyes dart between them, as if she can’t decide who to look at and wants to stare at them both. Her optics are bright, bright yellow.

“Hey,” Bera says, and Examoris laughs.

Well, she tries to. It comes out more as static than anything else, but Bera knows that she’s laughing. She can see what’s wrong, now; the wires at her neck spark and bend at odd angles, and there’s a constant shaking sound whenever Examoris tries to speak.

Ryf leans down and gently, gently, gently presses a kiss to Examoris’ lip plates. Bera watches her cycle her optics twice before dimming them low, her bright pink internal lights glowing brighter with each second.

Bera waits, watching them kiss; it’s a strange feeling of warmth that wells in her, like fitting a piece of a puzzle together. She doesn’t know what she wants to do more: kiss Examoris herself, or keep watching them together.

Her decision is made for her when Ryf pulls away and Examoris looks at her expectantly. Ryf nudges her where she’s chest-to-back with the hunter, and Bera laughs but leans forward obligingly. Examoris tastes like she always does, like metal and ozone and something sharp and hungry just on the edge, something that makes you dip closer for more - and Bera does.

An awkward cough to their right alerts them that there are other people still present. Elias stands there with a devilish grin. “I guess you all know each other?” he asks, though Bera knows he damn well knows the answer to that.

“Shut the hell up,” is  Bera’s succinct response, and Elias laughs.

“I feel like Javs should be here for this,” he says, just as Javs turns the corner down the path with matching sandwiches wrapped in paper in his hands. He stops, looks at the sandwiches, and looks back up.

“I need more sandwiches,” he says, and Bera can feel Ryf shake with laughter around her, can feel Examoris’ shoulders shake against her, and feels whole for the first time since the Tower fell.

Bera doesn’t remember waking up. Sometimes, she wonders - but right now, she has a feeling that it felt something like this: bone-deep happiness, a breath of light, a flash of a smile. Something like love.

* * *

 

Snare watches Examoris reunite with her fireteam with a detached sort of satisfaction, the same kind he feels when he gets a single, clean shot, or maybe when he watches an enemy ship go down with a good hit. The distant pleasure of a job done and done  _ well _ suffuses his processor, and he turns to make his way back to the open barn he’d seen earlier. He rationalizes it’s the most likely place he’ll find a repair kit -

-until a strong hand is on his upper arm, and he turns, quiet confusion in his eyes.

“You came with her, didn’t you?” The Titan’s voice is unfamiliar but kind, rumbling low and quiet.

“Yes,” he says plainly, and moves to step away. He can finally repair his fingers-

That hand tightens just a little, not unkindly, but firmly.  “They probably want to thank you for bringing her home.”

“Unnecessary,” he fires off immediately. “She’s here. Needs her arm and vocalizer fixed. I need to fix my hand.” He clenches his fingers experimentally; his index finger and pinkie are entirely unresponsive, and the other fingers are little better. “Can I leave?”

“Can I at least know your name?” The Awoken smiles at him, a small thing that’s barely more than a quirk of lips.

Snare, sensing that he’s not going to get out of this that easily, relents. It’ll at least get him out of here for now, and he can deal with the consequences later. “Snare. Hunter.”

“Javs. Titan.” He holds out a hand, seemingly oblivious to the sandwich still there.

Snare’s not going to turn it down, though. He plucks it from the Titan’s fingers, beginning to unwrap it as he walks away. “Tell her to find me when she needs repairs,” he says over his shoulder, and he hears more than sees Javs nod through his bubbling laughter.

Before he leaves earshot, he hears another voice trying to whisper. He tunes his hearing just a little higher, thankful those systems hadn’t been damaged.

“Who’sat?”

“Snare. The hunter who brought their warlock home.”

There’s an odd pause, then: “You don’t think he’s looking for a fireteam, do you?”   
  
“Elias…”

“I’m just saying, if he can keep himself and an effectively one-armed warlock alive for a month in cabal-infested wilderness, I want him next to me if shit goes down.”

A sigh, and then: “Fine. But let him adjust first, please.” And then, quieter: “He stole my sandwich, too.”

“You did offer it to him.”   
  
“Not helping, Elias.”

He trails out of earshot then, taking a bite of the sandwich in his hand. It’s not half-bad, either.

He’ll at least think about it.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY THIS TOOK A WHILE BUT ITS HERE NOW
> 
> anyway look at all my babies ;^; i have them all in the same place now - time to move this chess game forward. the red legion waits for no man! but since we're working in the bounds of what is essentially going to be AU territory from here forward, i'm going to have a few fun things in store for everyone. :3c
> 
> thanks for sticking with me. <3
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://banshee-44.tumblr.com), a [writing tumblr](http://kaytewrites.tumblr.com), and a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/actualflower) if you'd like to follow me there!


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